


Strike A Match And Burn Away

by hatakaashi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blasphemy, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, Ya'll know you were cravin' Akaashi being fawned over by everyone don't deny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatakaashi/pseuds/hatakaashi
Summary: Akaashi Keiji is a surly, whip crack smart teenager that seems to be annoyed by everything. His metal eyes silently judge people that aren’t on his level. And not many are.Akaashi Keiji is not a flower.He may look like an innocent petal, but his bite is more poisonous than a viper’s.To say it’s intoxicating would be the understatement of the century.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Holy fuck, someone _please_ take me to church and forgive me, for I have sinned™ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It is the rule of high school, the popular kids that run the school are the athletes. And Konoha runs in the same social circle as Saruman, Komiyan, Bo, Tatsu and Yuks.

It is unheard of for a first year to gain popularity and tag with their squad, but the world as they’ve known it shifts, because Akaashi fuckin’ Keiji joins Fukurodani.

 

-

 

**Rule Number 1: Don’t Stare.**

Staring is rude, but sixteen year old Akaashi Keiji is an exception to the rule. It would be rude _not_ to stare at him.

He is a whole lot more than just the newest addition to Fukurodani’s Volleyball starting 6.

Akaashi Keiji is a surly, whip crack smart teenager that seems to be annoyed by everything. His metal eyes silently judge people that aren’t on his level. And not many are.

He’s got limbs like a willow tree - dainty arms, usually at his hips, and his legs are _incredible_. Dewy thighs that may brown, but, even after practice, do not wilt.

His movements are sharp and precise. Absolute. On the court, they have never seen him fall - not once - which is why neither their Captain or Coach insist on him wearing pads. He doesn’t need them. 

But everybody, of course, not just the volleyball team, wonders how he got his knobby knocked knees to be the color of purple. Nobody, of course, dares to ask.

Akaashi Keiji is not a flower.

He may look like an innocent petal, but his bite is more poisonous than a viper’s.

To say it’s intoxicating would be the understatement of the century.

 

-

 

The first Wednesday morning of the new school year is when darling dearest first talks to him.

“Are you a new student?” The teacher asks Konoha, who takes his time dragging his feet to his least favorite subject and classroom, unwillingly, five minutes after the bell. 

“No.”

Konoha’s reply is followed by a couple of stifled giggles. Girls from the front row.

“Well I have never seen you in my class before.” The teacher says.

Konoha shrugs, not a care in his pocket. He takes the empty seat at the back, making sure his foot connects with the chair in front of him.

“Well, then. Let’s proceed with the lesson, shall we?”

“If you plan on sitting there, please don’t distract me.” Darling Akaashi whispers, his attention at the blackboard. “Playing footsies counts.”

“I hardly plan on showing up.” Konoha snorts in reply.

For the next forty three minutes that Geometry consists of, until the bell rings, dismissing them, he gets to stare at the back of Akaashi’s head and his haughty shoulders.

 

 

-

 

“Lemme guess,” Konoha says, suppressing his fox faced smirk as graciously as possible. “you’re also in the second year’s Literature Class?”

“Not much of a guess if I’m already here.” Darling dearest replies, hostile air and all. “Or is it, Konoha-san?”

 _He_ knows his name, even though they’ve never had an official introduction.

Good.

“I guess not.”

 

-

If you’re not on time for volleyball practice, you do suicides.

It’s not unusual for Bokuto to be late, but it’s surprising to see punctual as a Swiss clock Akaashi Keiji guilty of tardiness.

The only running they do is to warm up, though, because Coach has a soft spot for Bokuto and nobody at Fukurodani wants to be on the shit side of their star athlete, sorry man, so fuckin’ sorry.

 

-

 

The bike shed behind the school is where the cool kids gather to smoke during lunch break. 

“His mom goes to the same church like mine and if she finds out…”

“She won’t.” Bokuto says, to everyone listening - and they all are - not a threat, but “Nobody’s finding out shit, alright? Akaashi’s cool.”

 

-

 

 

“You reckon Bokuto’s dicking him?” Konoha asks his best friend, conversationally. Carelessly cool.

Sarukui shrugs. “No idea, but from what I’ve heard, Bokuto isn’t the only one.”

 

-

 

They have a lot of away and guest games, and Konoha watches silently, observing from the sidelines, how the mighty first years fall.

That film noir guy, Karasuno’s Ennoshita what-the-fuck-ever Chikara.

Then there’s Shiratorizawa’s Kawanishi Taichi.

And there goes Datekou’s #6, Futakuchi Kenji.

 

-

 

Bokuto is the first one to go down from them, biting the goddamn dust. 

Bait in, fishhook in mouth, set and done, dead and gone. Butterflied stomach, heart eyes, the whole nine yards. Signed, sealed, fuckin’ delivered.

Konoha thinks it’s almost comical, really.

Rest in fuckin’ pieces, Bokuto.

 

-

 

**Rule Number 2: Don’t fall in love.**

In Konoha’s defense, he falls in _lust_ , the way Akaashi’s plump lips chew on the cap of his pen, as they come up with volleyball strategy number two and three and then one thousand.

 

-

 

“Akaashi, you don’t need to have your initials scribbled over your underwear, nobody from the team would steal them.”

Akaashi glances down at his overwashed tighty whities - who the fuck, after reaching puberty, is even allowed to wear _those_ \- markered, at the right top corner, with “K.A.” and a small heart next to them.

Akaashi goddamn fuckin’ Keiji, that’s who.

“Washio-san, they’re not just _my_ initials.”

That’s how their entire locker room - Konoha included - knows _he_ is next.

 

-

 

“Just for your information, the bets have already started and they’re against you.” Sarukui, still bent over his duffel bag and searching for his deodorant stick, warns. “This cat and mouse game, you got goin’ on? I hope you realize you’re Jerry and not Tom.”

Konoha throws his head back and he laughs and laughs, because his best friend is being ridiculous.

Besides, having Akaashi Keiji’s attention isn’t a bad thing. It makes his school rep rocket through the roof.

 

-

 

Darling dearest passes him a note in Literature Class.

“Konoha-san, you have really nice hands. Too bad you don’t color them.” 

The next day Konoha gets written up for detention, because his fingernails are painted black.

 

-

 

The week after that, he gets another note and another detention.

Wearing a high school uniform doesn’t allow you to stand out and piercing his ears and wearing black studs just felt like the right thing to do. Fuckin’ sue him for his personal form of expression.

The cool kids call it _aesthetic_.

 

-

 

Bokuto is away for National leveled volleyball camp and Konoha’s favourite season shifts.

Not just because Akaashi hates the cold.

Bare feet and summer insects, alive and loud, cricketing into the night as the two of them perch on the roof of Akaashi’s house, sharing a fat one between their fingers.

Nighttime hunger and whiskey breath stolen kisses, and Konoha tries not to stare too hard.

It’s just not possible, though, because Akaashi is so damn excessively pretty, with too many focal points on his face at once. 

No, not starting is not an option, it’s not possible.

Even the moon is staring.

 

-

 

Darling dearest doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s a lot of fucked up shit.

He talks about psychosis and serial killers and he’s a firm believer of living fast, dying young and leaving a beautiful corpse behind.

Akaashi Keiji’s got a Lana Del Rey mouth that is aggressively hard to ignore and Konoha doesn’t even try.

He likes it a lot, actually.

 

-

 

“For you.” _Darling fuckin’ dearest_. 

Akaashi places the ring pop Konoha gifts him with onto his middle finger, full lips latching onto the crimson sugar candy, devouring it and needless to say, Konoha feels the ample wetness in his boxers.

He stays strong, though. 

At least until he’s back home, relieving the tension from his hard dick and spewing over the wet tiles, a repertoire of Akaashi images that have catalogued themselves into his brain.

Endearing.

That’s what he always will be, to Konoha, at least.

 

-

 

He’s almost an official Fukurodani senior when his black nails get to fingerfuck Akaashi in the backseat of his if-you’re-able-to-keep-your-grades-up car. 

Konoha doesn’t know if it’s four minutes in Heaven or Hell, but there he is, pushing his fingertips into Endearest’s damp and warm and waiting hole.

Akaashi forgets how to kiss, just pressing the side of his face against Konoha’s cheek and he’s a gasping hot mess, but he is Konoha’s hot mess and that’s all that matters.

 

-

 

The smell of incense is overpowering and Konoha genuinely doesn’t remember the last time he walked into a house of God. But he can’t say no, not when Akaashi’s fingers are tugging at him, an innocent baby breath ghosting his skin.

A whisper between the pews that sounds an awful lot like _Konoha-san please fuck my brains out_.

He couldn’t say no to Endearest.

Never.

 

-

 

A hundred and eighty days pass, full throttle, and Konoha is aware he - just like everyone else - is still unable to solve the mysterious puzzle that goes by the name of Akaashi Keiji.

A lot have tried and failed, but Konoha is one of the lucky few ones that Akaashi had deemed worthy of knowing more about him.

Yeah, Konoha’s school grades might not be much of a show, but he’s learned a lot. He’s learned plenty.

A single child of the Akaashi clan with a strict, religious mother that makes sure he is there for Sunday’s sermon, the highest tenor in the church choir.

Akaashi’s Ma would probably weep for lifetimes, if she knew her one and only is not as innocent as he may look, making Konoha bite into his curled fist while his dick is being sucked into their gym’s empty locker room, with Konoha finally knowing, appreciating, how Akaashi gets those lilac bruises on his knees.

She would mourn for eternity, if she knew her son’s got a fuckton of daddy issues, but Konoha doesn’t mind.

He’s not one to judge, especially while having Akaashi’s slender ankles shaking against his sweaty shoulders, fucking him raw into the mattress.

 

-

 

Konoha is almost out of high school when he realizes that Akaashi Keiji is not the type of boy you can put your claim on.

A night owl and a child of the moon, Endearest belongs to nobody but himself.

It’s a little too late, though, because his best friend, Saruman, is already wearing the cruel and familiar hickie bitten halo around his neck.

-

 

As the calendar pages turn, the next expected victims are Washio and even the grounded-as-always Komiyan.

 

-

Konoha is still the one that holds Endearest’s eyesight and attention on him the longest.

And Akaashi goddamn fuckin’ Keiji will always be his only one.


End file.
